Sleep

Living With Adult Nightmares

Nightmares have always been part of my sleep. Just as a glass of water sits bedside and my silk mask pulls tightly across my eyes. Even with the darkest of night masks, nightmares still seep in.

Sometimes, afterward, I’m left feeling ashamed. How can an adult still be suffering from nightmares? I answer softly to myself, “an adult who has seen too many real-life monsters walking amongst us and hiding in plain sight.”

This week was my first nightmare in three months, breaking my progress. A person from my past was attempting to break into my house. I caught her in the act. Her face was weathered. Most of my memories of her are conjoined with my heightened dreams. It’s been decades since I’ve seen her. Yet, there she was pounding on my front door peering through the window squares. She wasn’t distressed. She didn’t need help. She had a slight smirk as if she knew all of my emotions were heightened. Could she tell my heart was pounding and my breath was shallow? I quickly reached for the door handle. Attempting to lock out any trace of her. Just then she started kicking in the bottom of our door. She maneuvered her frail framed body to fit under the crinkled door, defying all strength. Inching closer and closer into my safe haven.

I woke myself up, gasping for air. My emotions slowly washed over me and left my body. Trying to trick my mind, I told myself it wasn’t even that scary. I practiced a quick tapping meditation reminding myself that I’m safe. Still, the vivid descriptions of her face left me distraught.

I reached for safety in the arms of my love. His arm’s heaviness eased my shaking body. He’s grown used to me requesting to switch sides of the bed. Of the many places we’ve lived together, I’ve spent some nights being scared of the door and other nights of the window.

I rolled over, pulling the blanket up to my chin like a young child. I wrapped my legs around my warm senior rescue dogs who have slept in our bed since day one. I fell asleep and found my mind wandering back to the nightmare. I refused to go back there. Instead, I laid awake with my mind alarmed. Ruminating on all of the times I’ve seen monsters in real life. I thought about all of the red flags and what I should have done. I thought about what I will do next time. I’m at war. I’m at war and I’m the only one standing on the battlefield, fully prepared.

Then panic sets in. I’m reminded that I have to wake up with my children in a couple of short hours. I try another quick round of tapping meditation. I found my happy place. The sun was beaming on my face and I’m walking into a field of lavender with my children running and giggling in the distance. Tall trees lined the outskirts and in the middle, calling my name was a beautiful willow tree, swaying in the breeze. I practiced a breathing technique of counting seconds in which I slowly breathed in and held it then slowly released it. I lasted two rounds and fell fast asleep until a child’s hand poked me in the arm and whispered, “Good morning Mom, you’re the best Mom in the whole wide world.”

Today, as I was finishing this piece on the prompt sleep, a notification popped up. I don’t actively use Facebook but the app is still regrettably on my phone. My nightmare came true in the form of a friend request. I saw the name and display photo of the very person that seeped into my nightmare this week. Reminding me, I can’t wake up from real-life monsters.

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